


Prescription of Care

by afinecollector (orphan_account)



Series: Not Waving but Drowning [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Care Provision, Epilepsy, Gen, Healthcare, Neurological Event, Seizure, Seizures, care, epileptic, fraternal love, stroke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 01:29:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9525635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/afinecollector
Summary: Mycroft, such is his wont, gains access to Sherlock's care prescription whilst snooping. He learns quickly that care providers can diplomatically say one thing, when meaning another.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A crappy little one-shot to add to the NWBD 'verse that I was inspired to write whilst completing a Care Plan (prescription of care) for a resident at the home I currently work in. As a HCA, I can honestly say that we are adept at diplomatically saying things that we can be desperate to say in another format. It's key in care to be person-centred at all costs. So the care plan for a _'woman who does nothing for herself, despite being able to'_ becomes the care plan for _'an individual who requires a little more prompting with daily tasks to ensure she feels confident in the execution'._  
>  I wondered what Mycroft would think if he found a care plan for Sherlock, and was able to translate it back for himself. It varies, and I am aware that hospital care records differ from residential care plans so forgive the crossing over. Anyway, this happened...

How he found it, exactly, he wasn't sure, but find it he did and giving it up now was not going to happen. Computer access, Mycroft deemed, should be locked if it is to be prevented and leaving the machine wide open and unsupervised was asking for trouble. He made light work of the safeguards that were in place and was able to quickly access the file for his younger brother. Within minutes, Mycroft had access to a full documentation under the title "Holmes, Sherlock; Prescription of Care". He opened it hungrily, and flicked his eyes over the text with passion and fever. 

"...is a very independent and spirited young man who endeavours to undertake as much of his personal care as possible, despite the interruption of currently exacerbated myoclonic seizures..." he mumbled as he read. "...mostly continent when without seizure activity, though the possibility of seizures during sleep (unconfirmed) have led to nocturnal urinary incontinence. It is possible that there are behavioural factors, but a mental health assessment has provided no indication of personality changes..." Mycroft frowned, unsure of whether or not he liked that words he was drinking in. "...previously supported with stage two thickened fluids this has now been withdrawn and replaced at stage one, as Sherlock has begun to regain better control of his ability to swallow and speak. SALT reviews continue, SALT therapy continues daily; Sherlock's speech is no longer disordered and hard to understand, though he speaks with a pronounced lisp. Sherlock dislikes his thickened fluids and will attempt to take fluids without them; he should be monitored at these times as he remains FEED AT RISK, and risks aspiration..." Mycroft cupped his left hand under his chin and blinked, frowning further at the words before him. "...Sherlock's medication remains administered by the nursing staff; he lacks orientation to time and place to do so independently, and it remains hospital policy. Sherlock is supported with Lamotrigine (BD) and Simvastatin (QHS)..." 

Realising he was perched precariously in an area that would ultimately land him in trouble, Mycroft quickly located the print button and waited impatiently for the printer at his side to spit out the four sheets of the document. Hot from the rollers, he snapped the sheets up and clicked out of the documents he'd been snooping in and moved away from the desk. He took the sheets with him across the corridor and slipped into Sherlock's room, where his parents were bothering the poor boy with endless rounds of speech-focused flashcard games. Offering Sherlock a sympathetically sorrowful look, Mycroft sat down into one of the chairs that were lining the wall and watched them for a moment, before picking up where he left off on the pages in his hands. 

"...he continues to be compliant with his medication, though it is noted that he has the capacity for refusal. Any refusals are to be clearly documented on his Administration Chart. There should be an accurate seizure log kept of Sherlock's seizure activity; absence seizures are to be logged in the hourly chart, myoclonics are to be reported and documented on the log along with tonic-clonic seizures. It is important that accurate time frames are provided..." Mycroft sighed and looked up, watching Sherlock's bright smile illuminate his eyes as he laughed at his mother, and couldn't help but smile himself before he brought his eyes back to the documentation. "...Sherlock requires the assistance of one for care needs, is afforded unsupervised continence/toileting, and requires supervision at mealtimes due to FEED AT RISK/SALT statement. Coughing or full signs of aspiration should be documented; concerns of inability to clear chest should be reported and recorded; nursing staff to assess..." 

Mycroft looked up and cleared his throat, "Sherlock?" Sherlock drew his eyes from his parents, and all three turned to look at Mycroft. Sherlock's brows rose in lieu of a spoken reply. "Do the nurses sit with you at mealtimes - if we're not here, to they supervise you when you're eating?" 

Sherlock frowned and shook his head, "No...," he drew down the corners of his mouth and Mycroft could still see that very slight lag, that very slight indication of the damage to his brain. "Why?" 

Mycroft echoed Sherlock's expression and shook his head, "No reason, just curious." He smiled falsely. "What about with washing and dressing, or getting to the bathroom?" 

"He isn't a complete invalid, Mikey," Violet tutted. "I really don't think he needs a nurse to take him to the loo." Sherlock grimaced. 

Mycroft shook his head, "No, I know, I'm just curious as to what goes on. I never really asked." He shrugged his shoulders, "It doesn't matter." 

"Well it must," Siger looked at his eldest with concern, "I know you well enough to know when your brain is brewing something over, Mycroft. What's the matter?" 

Mycroft tidied his papers back together and folded them down the middle, holding them between both hands. "I just want to make sure he's safe; he could choke if they're not helping him, he can't always work his tongue perfectly to swallow, what if something went wrong and nobody was paying attention? And what if his seizures get worse, because of the...damage, what if nobody is here, he falls having a seizure and..." 

"It's a hospital, Son," Siger quickly comforted. 

"That doesn't mean they always know what's best, though, does it? Medical negligence is a thing." Mycroft insisted, his mind slowly working through the words he'd read on his brother. He wasn't stupid, he knew how to be kinder than one intended in the form of words - he knew what words like 'independent and spirited' meant. These people saw Sherlock as stubborn and combative to receiving care and, yeah, he probably was but that didn't mean he deserved to be immortalised in documentation as being a bit of a moaning prick. "Like I said, it doesn't matter I was just curious." He folded the papers once more, and tucked them inside of his blazer to the inner pocket. He pushed himself up to his feet and approached the bed, resting his hands on the foot board. He watched Sherlock quietly, and his parents standing either side, as the younger Holmes managed to sit through another round of flashcards without losing his temper. He made a mental note to pick through the remaining documentation when he had time to himself.


End file.
